south to dunedin, road trip part two

If you missed part one, check it out here!

We arrived on the South Island in a whirlwind of ferry departures and rain, stopping in the town of Picton to pick up groceries. Taylor was using Wiki Camps to find campsites for the night, and after one full spot, we found our Eden (#1)  on the shores of the Queen Charlotte Sound. Since Taylor and Tobyn had been camping together for a week or so, they had a system down. I pitched in where I could, but they had the ritual down pat and we were soon set up – in the pouring rain – with a tarp covered space in between the two cars.

We had no idea where we were. I mean, we had a map, and we knew where on the map we were, but we had no idea what lay beyond the immediate environs of the cars. In the morning, the rain had stopped and the sun was shining, and we could see where we were: right on the shores of the Sound, the water lapping at the edge of the car park, the surrounding plants a vibrant green, the sky a brilliant blue.

We didn’t stay long here, we were heading for the east coast and the mountains. Breakfast was freshly brewed coffee (thanks, Tobyn!), which was perfect. We packed up, and then someone said “is that a kiwi?” We all looked over, and sure enough there was a little brown bird nosing around the campsite. Further inspection revealed that it was a weka instead, a duck-like bird that looks similar to a kiwi but is much friendlier and not as shy around humans.

I have never spent any time in the Queen Charlotte Sounds, and I can tell you from only one night up there that I have to go back. I have to explore more, hike, swim, and just sit in the sunshine at a remote location. It was beautiful. Pulling out on to the twisty roads, staring down at the islands below, the tiny inlets with sailboats, it reminded me of the Bay of Islands – reminded all of us of the Bay of Islands – and I felt this tiny tug on my heart, like, “this is your place.” Except, I hear that voice a lot in a lot of different places so I think what it really means is, “this is a place you would love – for a bit. Come and see, come and experience, come and play. And then, go where you need to go next.” So, QCS, I’ll be back, no worries, if only for a bit.

From Picton, we drove through the Marlborough wine region. Wineries popped up every hundred metres or so, but we didn’t stop at any of them. Because the tourist season was mostly over, most were closed or had limited hours. We also had a destination in mind: the Ohau Stream Waterfall just north of Kaikoura.

Readers, this is the most magical place on the planet. I think. This tiny waterfall in the middle of the forest is where baby fur seals come to play. I’m dead serious. It was so amazing. So picturesque. So happy. I couldn’t get over the happiness of the seals as they frolicked under the stream of water, flipping and crawling all over each other like giant puppies in a cuddle pile. Does that even make sense? Its hard to put this into words! Here’s a video.

 

We had our lunch in the car park here, some homemade toasties from the grill. The surf was close, the waves surging up on to the rocks and crashing metres from where we sat. Kaikoura was visible in the distance, a tiny town settled on the rocky shores of the Canterbury Plains. Taylor knew of a camping spot so we packed up our lunch and went to find it. We left one car there and cruised into town – to the seal walkway and esplanade.

Kaikoura is the dolphin and whale watching centre of NZ. This is where the tours go out from, so its a little bit like Paihia – touristy shops, cafes, tour companies, hostels – but it also has a long walkway and a colony of fur seals.

^This is my favourite picture of Tay^

Fur seals are interesting creatures. They look like blobs of blubber in a dark, matted, fur jacket. They laze about anywhere they can find a comfy spot – not that comfort really has much to do with it. They blend in well with the kelp and the rocks too, so its best to watch your step. We had a few that posed for us, but overall they were sedentary. Leaving them behind, we walked out along the water and down a few steps to a low-tide-only walk along the rocks to the point. The tide was coming in as we did this, so we didn’t stay too long, but enough to capture the feel of the place: moody, wild, and powerful.

Back at base camp, we set up the tarp, the table, the grill, the fairy lights. The sky grew darker as the sun set behind the mountains behind us – the lowest range of the Southern Alps that stretch along the West Coast from Milford Sound to Greymouth. There is a reason that Kaikoura – and the region of the Canterbury Plains – refers to itself as where the mountains meet the sea.

That night, after dinner, over wine and card games, we watched the moon rise up from the sea. In front of us, the waves surged toward the shore, crashing only metres from where we were parked. Behind us, the mountains rose up, cloaked in the season’s first snow, their white peaks shining in the full moon light.

This campsite was Eden #2. I don’t think I will fully be able to put into words how majestic this campsite was. Mere metres from the high tide line, the surf pounded the shore all night and that was the sound we fell asleep to, the sound we woke up to, the sound that permeated dinner and breakfast and everything in between. At night, when the moon rose over the sea, all I could see was the swell of the ocean as the waves came toward land. No other delineation of earth and sky was visible, just a slight undulation of the horizon line as the swell crested in the low moonlight. It was magical, surreal, a sight I’ve never seen before. Seals swam offshore, never coming in to land but playing in the waves just head of us. Behind us, the mountains grew up from the plains. That afternoon, they had been dusted with a shimmer of snow in the crepuscular light, by moonlight they stood out against the night sky. Stars sparkled above us and only a tiny amount of light pollution came out of Kaikoura. This goes down as one of my all-time favourite places to sleep.

In the morning, we made pancakes. Rather, Tobyn made pancakes while Taylor and I ate them. The sun was shining and we were planning out our day. A few other cars in the campsite were up and about. The snow sparkled on the mountains in the cloudy sunrise, the low tide frothed onshore at our feet. We packed up again and set out for the mountains. Our destination for the day was Hanmer Springs, a Kiwi vacation locale high in the mountains outside of Christchurch. We knew nothing of the place, only that it was pretty, and that someone I once knew told me to go there. So, Taylor and Tobyn were onboard with this and off we went. The drive was the best part: the winding roads into the mountains, the hairpin turns around barren hillsides, the snow-capped peaks forever in the distance, mocking us to come closer only to vanish, to disappear behind near hills, to appear again even further away.

Hanmer Springs is your quintessential mountain town – albeit one without a ski resort nearby. Thermal springs are the thing here, spas dot the town centre. The views from the hills around are stunning. My friend, The Travelling Nerd, has spent a decent amount of time in Hanmer – you should check out his Instagram for the photos. All we did here was have lunch. But the drive was totally worth it.

From Hanmer, we cruised south into the hills, toward Methven, where Taylor would be living, and Porters, where Tobyn would be living. We diverted along SH7 and 72 to pick up SH73, which would lead us into the heart of the mountains. Our camping spot for the night was Lake Lyndon, a vast expanse of flatland in the middle of the mountain pass – with towering peaks all around us and a shimming lake a hundred metres away. The stars were out in full force that night as we set up camp – forgoing the tarp and the fairy lights because the wind was so strong. We ate dinner in the van that night, wrapped in blankets and our winter clothes, the wind whipping around outside. As I stepped outside to pee, I could see the Milky Way, all the mountain peaks in the moon, the stars shimmering above like flickering candles on a birthday cake. We didn’t play cards that night, our last night as a trio. No, we talked instead. About everything under the sun, about life, and love, and loss and travel.

In the morning, we packed up in the wind – less wind than the night before but still coming through the pass like a freight train. We drove thirty minutes to Castle Hill, a unique preservation with limestone outcroppings. We played here like little kids, climbing on the boulders, climbing across the boulders, hanging over the boulders while someone else held our feet, trying for the picture that said “I’m such a risk taker” when in reality we were only a foot off the ground. It’s all about your perspective, right?

From Castle Hill we went back toward civilisation. Taylor and I had one last lunch with Tobyn in the park in Darfield before he went back to Porters to start work and Tay and I headed to Methven and her new house to drop off some stuff.

Our destination for the next few days was Arthur’s Pass National Park. We had plans to hike there one day, to explore off the beaten track. We rocked up to Lake Pearson, our chosen camping spot and set about making camp and dinner. Some German guys invited us for a campfire, but we never made it, choosing instead to crawl into the warmth of the car and our blankets and watch Vikings/read. In the morning, we packed up and headed toward Arthur’s Pass village for a coffee and a visit to the DoC. (side note: in the morning, as we were leaving, the two German guys went for a swim – a SWIM – in the lake. we told them they were brave… we were wrapped in most of our winter clothes.)

For details on our Bealey Spur hike, read here.

That afternoon, after our refreshing whisky, we headed for the campsite at Klondyke Corner. However, as we neared the Waimakariri River and flatlands, we passed a sign that said “snow expected” and we opted to drive all the way back to Lake Pearson, thinking (rightly, it turns out) that we would have a far easier time leaving to go back toward Christchurch in the morning if we didn’t have to crawl along due to snow (we did crawl, but not for very long.)

Back at Lake Pearson, we were the only car. We scoured the lakeshore for firewood, finding only a small bit that would burn and eventually giving up our hopes of a warm fire that night. We made dinner, had some wine, crawled into the car, and talked.

I woke up to snow around 6 am, the windows fogged over from two people sleeping in a confined space, the windshield iced over from the chill outside. I reallllly didn’t want to step outside, but I also reallllly had to pee and the toilet was across the parking lot. So, I made sure my gloves were on and my jacket zipped up to my neck, slipped my headband over my ears, cracked the door, and pulled my muddy shoes on (they were under the seat, not outside!) My feet made snowy footprints across the frozen ground. Ice and snow clung to the trees above the car and the hoary frost lay across every glassy surface. When I got back to the car, Tay was awake and we began the slow process of packing up. When your fingers are frozen and you still have to clean the dishes from the night before, there is nothing worse than a frozen stainless steel pot and no hot water. Quite honestly, I think we stuck everything in the esky and decided to clean it later.

It took some time to get the car going, poor thing was cold and so were we. The German guys came back that morning with some car problems, we asked if they needed us to call someone when we got in service range but they said they were good. We waved goodbye then and headed away from the mountains.

The roads were clear, only wet, but Tay drove with caution as we wound our way downhill. We passed Castle Hill, the limestone boulders wet and snow-covered in the misty morning. We passed Porters, waving to the mountains and Tobyn as we drove down the road. We stopped in Springfield for coffee, and then we headed toward Christchurch.

Our destination was as near to Christchurch as Tay wanted to drive; Tay had to head back to Methven and I was meeting up with Aussie Chris for the rest of my road trip adventure. Stay tuned for part three (and maybe part four, if this gets too long) over surviving a mini earthquake and how to best spend three days in the party capital of NZ!

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